The Black God's War

by Moses Siregar III

  “Can a ghost do that? You are a children’s story, a Rezzian dream.”

  “Your interpretation is equally subjective, though you do not comprehend the nature of belief.”

  “I see things as they are,” Rao said.

  “Pride fuels everything you do. To whom can you bow? What can you embrace that is greater than yourself?”

  “I do not bow to myths. True seeing transcends such childish ideas.”

  “And yet your body lies dying.”

  “I admit myths have some power. But my people seek no crutches.”

  “You are a master in a tiny field. The ultimate truth still lies far beyond you. There is no end to evolution, to the unshackling of chains.”

  “Why do you favor them? Are you vain? Are you a creation enslaved to a self-absorbed master?”

  “We arise together, the Rezzians and the gods of Lux Lucis. We do not always answer them, nor always give them what they seek. Though we always hear them. We assist them only as it suits their evolution. As they evolve, so do we. You would call this karma.”

  “So you are looking for a promotion. How godlike.”

  “We all play our parts in the divine play. Every being has its role.”

  “Gods who are slaves to duality. How inspiring.”

  “There is so much you do not understand, Prince.”

  “I know they created you in their minds.”

  “In fact, we arise together, interdependent. We were within them always.”

  “And they could have created any number of divinities, given them any variety of qualities or names.”

  “So it must seem to you. But man cannot create that which is not within him. You mistake them for being only that which they are aware of.”

  “No, I don’t. We are much more than what we are conscious of. Sages know this.”

  “Yet you draw a line between the Rezzians and their gods. This line does not exist.” A noise rang out like the slamming of a heavy tome. “Your vainglory is your end.”

  Time resumed and Oderigo faded from sight. Rezzia’s Haizzem stood over Rao’s body, holding a wooden rod in the air and the spear of his deceased friend.

  Rao remained dazed from the encounter with the god of Lux Lucis. His awareness floated, watching the boyish-looking man grit his teeth, arch his brows, and raise his spear.

  Chapter 58: Silent Misunderstandings

  EARLIER IN THE DAY, Narayani had invoked the mantras and felt its strange sensations again.

  Now, she could only watch as Rao’s body convulsed and collapsed in the middle of the desert canyon, for no apparent reason.

  My sweet Rao!

  Everything supporting her was gone.

  The Rezzian man—the same one she’d approached in the forest—walked painfully toward Rao’s disposed body with spear in hand. Rao’s body twitched.

  An aftereffect of death, she told herself.

  She ran as fast as her heart would allow toward her lover’s body, but soon everything changed. Nothing made sense. The space between them became a clear vacuum—then a jumble of colors. She couldn’t feel her own body. Couldn’t see her body.

  Disconnected patches of earth and sky reappeared seemingly at random and, within the span of three breaths, Narayani saw the material world again. She closed the distance and slammed down on her knees with Rao’s disfigured head between her thighs. His face showed no movement. He’d stopped breathing.

  The Rezzian murderer stood so close, even closer than he had at the lake. In his white robe, he looked possessed with the desire to kill, with dark eyes and jaw clenched. He readied the spear to strike Rao and sunlight glinted off the metal.

  Abruptly, he looked directly to her. Narayani’s breaths came heavier, then uncontrollably fast.

  “Are you a ghost?” he asked in Pawelon.

  “You see me?”

  The Rezzian lowered his arm and the spear. The skin around his eyes quivered as he stared.

  Caio hadn’t expected Mya to dispense with Pawelon’s prince with such brutality. The prince struggled in the deep, black waters but his body soon succumbed to the force and the pain. Ironically for the Pawelon, the attack occurred only in his mind. Yet there lay his disposed body, ready to receive Ilario’s spear. In the distance, Rezzian soldiers cheered.

  Thank you, goddess Mya. Thank you, Lord Oderigo. I do this in your name.

  The deep voice of Lord Danato emerged with an echo inside his skull. “You are doing that which you must do, Caio. This is your free will. You are beginning to understand that your wishes and choices cannot always align.”

  Is he dead or alive? Caio sensed the pain in the Pawelon’s body, with every organ crushed and bleeding. Alive. How is his soul still connected to his body?

  Caio’s grip on the spear was so intense that he found his knuckles white. He looked to the vicious point of the metal and visualized the spear going through the Pawelon’s bruised chest and into his heart.

  Caio looked up one last time, spying the wall of far off Pawelon soldiers. In his heart, he felt the love and hope of the Pawelons for their dying prince. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.

  The Pawelon girl appeared out of nothing, sitting by the prince’s head.

  With his hand poised for killing, he lost focus in her face. She was like the goddess Vani with dark skin and clipped hair, a paragon of beauty. She looked and felt as shocked to see him as he must have to her. Oddly, neither army made a clamor after her appearance.

  “Are you a ghost?”

  “You see me?” she said.

  “Yes, and if you are really here, you are violating the rules of the conflict. Others cannot see you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I beg you, do not disfigure his body any further. And if you must kill him, kill both of us together.”

  The Pawelon girl was so innocent, so delicate. “Fair woman, I could never harm you.” Caio’s grip on the rod and spear softened. “Go and let me finish this battle, as we agreed.”

  Tears ran down her face. “And they say you are a spiritual man. You’re a murderer.”

  “I am not! He dies so that thousands more will live.” Thousands of Rezzians, he admitted to himself. He pointed at Rao’s body. “He proposed this fight. Now the gods have punished his arrogance.”

  “I will not live without him.”

  “You must. Go now!”

  “Why do your gods drive you to murder? Why would they want to kill an innocent people? What gods would do such a thing?”

  “Gods who bring power. Gods who bring light and healing.” Caio felt too keenly his own contradictions.

  “Do not speak to me of healing! Do not tell me you think about families when fighting for glory, the widows and parents and children.”

  You have no idea. Then Caio realized he had not thought of any such repercussions since Ilario died. “Your prince wanted to fight me.”

  “And I didn’t want him to! I will not leave his body.” She stood and planted her feet, her eyes screaming defiance. “Tell me, if you are so spiritual, why can’t you find another way to solve your differences? Rao didn’t want to fight you. He only wanted the fighting to end.”

  Of all the things she could have said … Caio wondered with a knot of guilt, is it possible this man wanted the same thing he did just days ago? “It’s too late for understanding. You should look away.”

  Caio stood taller and gripped the spear again. Mya’s rod suddenly felt sharp in his left hand as his palm cramped. The Pawelon threw herself completely over her lover’s body, face down. For a moment, he considered giving her what she asked for. If they were both found there, it would be clear that she had interfered with the duel. He would win the contest for Rezzia, and Pawelon would be exposed for breaking the rules of the single combat. He yanked the spear back over his shoulder.

  “I will give you until the count of three to get up. At three, my spear will strike. Do not be in its way.”

  Caio felt the sun burning his hair and back.
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  “One.”

  “Two.”

  His clenched arm shook.

  “Three.”

  Chapter 59: Kill the Haizzem

  RAO’S BODILESS AWARENESS continued to observe Rezzia’s Haizzem standing over his disfigured body. After his last power left him scattered, Rao found himself unable to focus on any abilities that might rescue him. He felt ready for death, and only sad for those who would mourn him.

  The Rezzian jumped away from his body and began speaking in Pawelon.

  “Are you a ghost?”

  Had the Haizzem gone mad? Rao’s body was all but empty.

  “Yes, and if you are really here, you are violating the rules of the conflict. Others cannot see you?”

  What? Aayu?

  “Fair woman, I could never harm you.” The Haizzem loosened his grips. “Go and let me finish this battle, as we agreed.”

  Narayani! How?

  “I am not! He dies so that thousands more will live.” The Rezzian pointed at Rao’s body. “He proposed this fight. Now the gods have punished his arrogance.”

  Aayu taught you his sadhana.

  “You must. Go now!”

  Then I have to do something. Anything.

  “Gods who bring power. Gods who bring light and healing.”

  Your gods may be powerful, but they are not all-powerful.

  “Your prince wanted to fight me.”

  I did. Now I will find another way.

  “It’s too late for understanding. You should look away.”

  The Haizzem stood tall and gripped his spear again. Rao tried to gather and focus his spirit, but failed.

  “I will give you until the count of three to get up. At three, my spear will strike. Do not be in its way.”

  I have to risk coming back into my body, Rao decided.

  “One.”

  The pain inside his body would be beyond overwhelming. That pain might destroy his mind, too, if he couldn’t recover …

  “Two.”

  I have to save her. I’ll hit him immediately, before the pain overcomes me.

  Just before the Rezzian said “Three,” Rao sunk his consciousness back into his body. The physical torture consumed him. He gathered the last ounce of his soul to form the mudra for his secondary sadhana with one hand:

  Viparyas amrakh!

  Even after sending back his pain to its sender, his mind clung desperately to one small tree in the middle of the raging hurricane: the intention that he underwent this suffering for all sensitive beings. He wished that his torment would lessen the pain of all the worlds, seeding his suffering with purpose.

  As he succumbed to the pain, it grew larger. It became in his mind the pain of every being. Death was coming, but the Rezzian would be distracted and Narayani would get away.

  Rao forgave Rezzia’s Haizzem without any further blame. He simply forgave him for doing what he had to do.

  Immediately, Rao’s pain subsided. It became duller and duller, further and further removed from his direct experience. It was becoming something other than himself, as it should have been all along. Rao barely opened his eyes and saw the Haizzem flat on the ground. His foe appeared unconscious, but between the two of them stood a stunning woman with fair skin and exposed shoulders above a tight-fitting dress made of green vines.

  Her voice was high and kind, with an otherworldly resonance. “Because of your prayer, I must heal you now, Prince of Pawelon.” Rao felt a wholesome and cool sensation in his mind, like minty, sweet milk. He closed his eyes and his whole being was embraced, feeling a total lack of censure. The pain receded. Sanity reemerged. This love made his spirit soar, so much that he struggled to remain conscious of his physical body. He forced himself to stand and open his eyes.

  He saw no goddess. But he looked behind himself and found Narayani, looking amazed.

  “Narayani, remain in shunyata!”

  “I am! You see me?”

  “Yes. And even if you are still hidden, I want you to go away to safety.”

  “You will need my help.”

  “Go!” Rao stepped forward and picked up the man’s spear. He glanced momentarily at the metal and recognized it. It was terrible thing to think of doing to another man, but it had to be done.

  May his death bring peace to him and to all of us.

  “Rao, no!” Narayani pleaded.

  He thrust the spear’s point through the body beneath him and felt it go deep within the flesh. He saw Narayani flash before his eyes as she unexpectedly dove toward the Rezzian’s speared body.

  After that, everything changed.

  Chapter 60: Changes

  MIGHT THE NINE TRUE GODS act rightfully after all? Lucia wondered.

  Though the figures appeared the size of children’s toys at such a distance, she clearly saw Caio standing over the fallen body of Pawelon’s dark prince with Ilario’s spear in hand.

  Beside Lucia’s throne, the petite goddess Ysa stood with arms crossed over her silver breastplate. Her eyes looked to the west, more above the action than focused on it. Unfelt by her devotee, Ysa laid a palm atop Lucia’s head. The goddess pressed her index and middle fingers into Lucia’s eyes.

  The melee zoomed into Lucia’s vision, leaving her feeling bodiless and dizzy as she watched. The body of Pawelon’s prince lay bruised and discolored. Caio’s eyes glowered with vengeance.

  My goddess Ysa, I pray for the greatest good.

  Another Pawelon appeared out of nothing, the girl from the forest. She’d trimmed her hair, but looked just as beautiful.

  Caio jumped back and began conversing with the girl.

  Lucia could barely feel her lips, and mumbled as she spoke, “There is another Pawelon there.”

  “Where? I don’t see it,” her father answered.

  “On the ground by their prince. It’s his lover, the one we told you about. They’ve broken the agreement.”

  “I don’t see her.”

  “I am telling you, she is there. Caio is talking to her right now. He is telling her to go.”

  “You don’t sound well, Lucia. You are imagining things.”

  Caio raised his spear again above the body, and the girl threw herself over the prince.

  “One,” Caio said.

  “Two.”

  Ysa, may this act bring peace.

  “Three.”

  Pawelon’s prince underwent a miraculous and instantaneous healing, no doubt to Lucia a product of the dark magic wielded by him and perhaps the girl as well. Caio dropped the spear as he slumped to the ground and convulsed. His chest and arms heaved as if in dying spasms. Caio’s moans curdled Lucia’s blood.

  The Rezzian crowd gasped and screamed in disbelief. The prince and his lover spoke to each other in their language.

  Lucia called out to her father, “She has used some dark magic to conceal herself. She is there!”

  Pawelon’s prince picked up Ilario’s spear—don’t you dare touch that, you bastard—and stared for a moment at the metal.

  The prince strode to Caio’s body and raised the spear.

  “Rao, no!” the Pawelon girl screamed.

  The prince swung back the spear with deadly force as the sun glistened off his bare chest and, with two hands, he drove the blade into Caio’s heart.

  In the briefest of moments as the spear came down, Lucia’s heart called out, Ysa, take me instead!

  Lucia’s head and vision rattled like a pounded drum. The arid desert pressed flat against her back, and then Ilario’s spear entered her chest, under her right breast.

  The prince’s exposed teeth and gums showed his horror. Caio and the Pawelon girl were gone. Her enemy pulled the spear from her chest and Lucia fell into darkness.

  The Third Stanza:

  To Heal the Score

  Chapter 61: In the Hands of the Enemy

  INDRAJIT STOOD BESIDE HIS RAJAH, searching for the combatants with his bleary vision. Between them and the single combat stood the bulk of Pawelon’s great army: pockets of
sages, archers in square formations, spearmen in rectangular groupings along their front and at their flanks.

  Indrajit elevated his plane of vision to the Rezzian army beyond. His heart fluttered with twinges of excitement.

  Briraji had used a power to gain extraordinary sight. “Something has happened.” The sage’s hands formed a vault to keep the sun from his eyes. “The Haizzem falls and … Rao rises again.”

  Indrajit noticed the gasp of hope on Devak’s face.

  “Rao picks up the spear. He pauses, raises it. He stabs the Haizzem—wait—the Haizzem is gone. Rao speared a woman instead, one with dark red hair—”

  “The royal daughter.” Devak simply spoke the fact.

  “Dogs!” The word exploded from Indrajit. No honor. They sacrifice a woman instead.

  “Rao has disappeared. He must be using Aayu’s sadhana. And now the royal daughter is gone.”

  “None of them are there? No one is there?” Indrajit asked.

  “No one.”

  “My Rajah,” Indrajit said, “there must be a price to pay for their treachery.”

  “Rao won the combat.” Devak crossed his arms over his massive chest. “We’ll wait for their next move.”

  Narayani’s world spun around her dizzy head, blinded by the red ball of the sun. Fighting the throbbing in her temples, she placed her hands on a smooth, hard surface and raised herself to look at her surroundings.

  Below the raised platform, the Rezzian army spread out farther than her eyes could see: long-haired, dirty men bearing shields, many of them dressed in crimson shirts and capes around their armor; bald men in loose, white tunics; decorated officers upon horses.

  Two men sat in chalky white thrones before her, the Haizzem and a man that could only be Rezzia’s king. The king’s golden armor reflected the sun as he stood. He glared down on her with unkind eyes framed by his thick hair. Narayani fell flat and clung to the wooden floor, fearing the crowd of soldiers would spot her and tear her to pieces.